


Grant Me Strength to Fall

by misura



Category: Lymond Chronicles - Dorothy Dunnett
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-02-17 13:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "I may take a nap, if you insist on having hysterics," said Richard.





	Grant Me Strength to Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nabielka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabielka/gifts).



> set vaguely during GoK, so 'brotherly love' in this context is meant to say 'no actual murder attempts occur, but Lymond jokes about Richard wanting to have sex with him, because he's Lymond, and Richard has mellowed enough to put up with it'.
> 
> a treat, because I love these books and these ~~idiots~~ characters.

Lymond, legs still less than steady, slipped; Richard, alert and nearby, caught him.

It should have been a simple incident, forgotten as soon as it was over, save for the fact that the ground was wet and Richard's balance not as sure as it ought to have been, resulting in further mishap.

Thus, fickle luck having decided to favor Lymond, Richard ended up on his back, winded but unharmed, and Lymond on top of him, no more harmed than he had been before.

"Effective, if excessive," said Lymond. "A steadying hand would have sufficed."

"Are you comfortable?" asked Richard, who was not, but would be damned before he said so.

"More so, likely, than if we had continued walking. Less, if you continue to insist on conversation," said Lymond. The exhaustion that had been written plain on his face before had lessened, these past days, though Richard still saw the shadows of it, lingering.

Time, rest and better food than might be foraged would chase them, and of the three, Richard knew he might only continue to provide the first, and that not forever.

"You want me to lie here without speaking?" Richard managed to sound amused at the idea.

"Only put your arms around me and think of what a tableau of fraternal affection we would make," said Lymond, making no movement to indicate he planned on any attempt to rise. It was possible that he lacked the strength, and probable that, if he did, he was reluctant to admit to it.

Still, Richard discerned little that might be accomplished by allowing the situation to remain as it was, unchanged.

"Are you cold?" he asked, opting to be practical.

"The accusation has been leveled against me," said Lymond, choosing to be whimsical.

Physical affection did not come naturally to Richard. He had not experienced any great deal of it growing up, nor felt any need or desire to display it as an adult.

On the other hand, it seemed a small, trifling thing. If his comfort would not be increased by it, then nor would it be lessened. More: Lymond would not be expecting the gesture.

His course of action thus plotted and rationalized, Richard raised his arms and embraced his brother.

The expression passing over Lymond's face as he did so was everything he might have hoped for. Surprise came first, quicly blotted out by a display of amusement, tinged with wariness, suspicion.

"Is this," asked Lymond, "the way you hold your wife?"

Had the response been made more quickly, it might have passed for an effective counter. As it was, Richard had had too much time to prepare, to brace himself for what, knowing Lymond, he knew to come.

"No," he said, which had the advantage of being the simple truth.

"You should, then. Assuming you love her at least as much as you love me," said Lymond, stubbornly pursuing this line of attack. "Which I should hope to be the case, all things considered."

"I thought," said Richard, "you wished for us to form a tableau of fraternal affection."

"Without anyone to see, what use in putting oneself on display?" Lymond held himself very still. There was a tension running through his body that spoke of an unwillingness to give in even in so small a matter as to accept a hug from his brother.

"Shouldn't that be my question?" said Richard. "You are my brother. I have not yet stopped hating you, but even so, whatever else you may become, you are my brother and I love you as such. Is that such a difficult thing for you to accept?"

"Accept? Not at all," said Lymond. "Believe, rather. Am I to take your attempts on my life as tokens of brotherly affection? Did you think mine were? If it's my blood that buys your love, then I'll grant you enough of it has been spilled to pay the price in full, but even so, you are being rather inconsistent. Will you kiss me, next? Do you intend to take what people think your wife has given me of her own free will?"

The accusation, hurled at him without even a hint of emotion, almost sufficed to make Richard recoil. Almost, but not quite.

"I may take a nap, if you insist on having hysterics," said Richard.

"What a happy, sheltered life you must have led." Lymond shifted his weight.

"Still comfortable?"

"Like a shah reclining on a mountain of pillows, surrounded by lovely maidens there to see to his every whim," said Lymond, his body belying his words. "Aren't you at all worried you may catch a cold?"

"I'm in good health," said Richard.

"All the more reason for concern," returned Lymond. "To me, what would a cold be but another inconvenience? With my own brother clinging to me like Charybdis to a ship doomed to the depths, it might even make for a welcome distraction."

"Are you that eager to keep me on as your nurse-maid?"

Lymond sighed. For the first time, Richard felt some of the tension leave his body. He guessed it was from weariness as much as anything, but even so, it gave him hope.

"I think," said Lymond, "I preferred it when you were trying to kill me, or at least bring me to heel like a master his unruly dog. Consistency, I can respect and even admire, on occasion. When you allow your feelings to start interfering with your rational mind, you become far less lovable, brother."

"I'm human," said Richard. "I shan't apologize for it any more than I'll expect you to do so."

"Am I human, though?" asked Lymond. "Flesh and blood, rather than the devil incarnate? A figment of your imagination, perhaps. A flight of fancy. What purpose, a dull, virtuous son without a wild rascal for a brother, all the better to make him shine by comparison. If you left me now, would you still find me here when you returned, or would I be gone, having never existed at all?"

"Make up your mind, will you?" Richard managed a smile, magnanimous with victory clearly in sight. "You can be the devil or you can be imaginary, but I'm fairly sure you can't be both at the same time. Besides, if you're not real, why would it bother you at all that I'm holding you? A simple thing, surely, to abandon your human guise and take to the air as a spirit."

"I'm a wretch, trapped in the clutches of a madman," said Lymond.

"I suppose, all things considered, I may be forced to accept the label," said Richard.

"Truth is rarely something that can force itself to be accepted. It must be courted, teased out, dragged out of the dark and into the light and even then, it may find itself spat on and mistaken for a lie."

"We can either keep lying here, in which case I will take a nap and you will oblige me by keeping quiet, or we can continue on our way. I'll leave the choice to you."

"Threats, already? I do welcome the familiarity," said Lymond. "I don't feel very obliging right now, so unless you have begun to feel amorous after all, I suggest you help me get back on my feet so that we may all the sooner reach our happy destination."


End file.
